Shush

“Shush“, the Dover shingle whispers softly, sub-surface, sub-marine. “Shuuush“. In the silty harbour sea, I cannot see my arms or hands or life. The Dover shingle shifts. Slides and settles. We sigh together. I am swimming with my eyes closed, and the shingle says “shush” and I open them and swim on. “Shush“.   * I’ve…